


Haven

by circadian_rythm, scurvaliciousbay



Series: Inquisitor!Kass and Companion!Mel [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circadian_rythm/pseuds/circadian_rythm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scurvaliciousbay/pseuds/scurvaliciousbay
Summary: Melarue confronts their weakness in the face of Corypheus and contemplates their feelings for the Inquisitor, and Kassaran thinks of her daughter and struggles ever onward. (part 1 is written by circadian_rhythm, part 2 is written by scurvaliciousbay)





	Haven

**Part 1: Haven**

\---

They are not strong enough. 

They realize it, quite suddenly, when the Blighted dragon roars overhead, and they take an unconscious step back. There was once a time when they could have walked out of Haven and slain the dragon and its master and his armies without a second thought. They could have done it so easily…

But they are not strong enough here. The magic in them is not enough, not to take a form that could combat the dragon one on one, or to bring the mountains down upon the armies, or crush that vile puppet’s skull.

And if they are not strong enough…they glance over at Solas, and see his grim expression, and know that he is not strong enough either. Neither of them have the power that they would need for this. And if neither of them can hope to do so…how?

But the Inquisitor walks past them, back straight, shoulders set, and Melarue barely sees the tremor in her hands as she grips her sword. As she orders them back.

“I will come with you,” Melarue interjects. If Kassaran dies, then their hopes of closing the rifts dies with her, thanks to Solas’ fumbling. Whatever he managed to do with implanting that magic into her hand, it has made it impossible to take out. Solas steps forward as well, likely to offer the same aid, but the Inquisitor turns to them and shakes her head.

“Get the rest of the survivors to Haven. If this does not work, we may be followed.”

 _If this does not work, we are doomed either way,_  Melarue thinks. But Kassaran does not know that. The Inquisitor is thinking of others, of her child and the numerous people that have looked to her for guidance.

And Melarue is thinking of contingency plans. What will they do if the Inquisitor dies and they can no longer close the rifts? What must Melarue do to save this world now? And it strikes them then, how at odds they are with this Inquisitor, and her love for others, and her penchant for taking in broken people.

When that was how they fancied  _themselves_ for so long…only to discover now that they are not.

They are momentarily ashamed. Have their years being trapped beneath the ground and watching the world go by as they slept made them this callous? They have always been cunning, but never have they considered themselves cruel until now.

They swallow, and reach out to place a hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder. “I will make certain your daughter is safe, Inquisitor.”

Kassaran seems to fold in on herself then, just briefly, like she wishes to cry, but she straightens once more, with a nod, and a huskily whispered “thank you” that makes Melarue frown. As they, and Solas, and the Iron Bull begin their trek toward the mountain pass, Melarue looks back once more.

The Inquisitor clutches her sword tightly, and walks forward, head held high.

Melarue turns away.

—

The air cracks. A thunderous sound, and all three of them stop to turn. Melarue’s grip tightens on their bow, as they watch the avalanche hurdle toward what is left of Haven.

“…shit…you don’t think the Boss could’ve made it out of that, do you?”

“The Inquisitor is full of surprises,” Solas offers, and for once Melarue does not feel the need to contradict him.

“Let us go,” Is all Melarue says, as they pull their cloak tighter around their body and begin following the tracks left in the snow by the others. They made a promise to Kassaran to look after her daughter…they will not break it.

—

When the three finally manage to find the rest of the survivors, Melarue is cold and tired and uncertain. What will they do if she is truly gone? They have been thinking about it for hours now, wondering who of their contacts they should send messages to, which safehouses must be prepared, and whether or not some of their old caches of power are still hidden and could be unearthed.

Thinking about it helps to keep them from focusing on the odd, hollow feeling in their chest.

Everyone looks to them as they arrive, and Melarue watches the hope drain from them, as the soldiers turn away, and the citizens turn to one another in disbelief and fear.  _Kassaran is not with them. The Inquisitor is dead. They are all doomed._

 _Not doomed_ , Melarue wants to say,  _and not dead. We do not know if she is gone. She is strong, she would not die so easily._ Perhaps they think it simply to convince themselves, but somehow it helps. 

They make their way past the rear guard, past slouched figures of weary and frightened villagers The Iron Bull pauses to help right a wagon that has overturned in the snow, but Melarue and Solas continue forward.

Solas is quiet. That is not odd for him, but the silence between the two is deafening. He has questions, he always does, when it comes to them, but they dislike giving him answers. It has always been Kassaran that has eased the tension between them when they have gone on outings together.

They imagine he is making the same plans they are, trying to think of some way to fix what he’s done. Melarue wishes they could tell him where to stuff his plans. They never work the way he wishes them to. But they are tired, too tired to argue or lay blame, even if they feel like they know where to direct it.

“Mel!”

Ashokara bounds across the snow toward them, bundled in an extra cloak and a pair of boots much to big for her, Cassandra behind her. She looks behind them, and does not see her mother. Her face falls. Cassandra asks Solas what happened, and as he goes over the events, Melarue reaches out to straighten the hood on Ashokara’s cloak.

“We must keep going,” Leliana appears, “Cullen and our scouts are searching for suitable ground to camp but we must find some shelter from this storm.”

Melarue nods, and they grab Ashokara, lift her up with more ease than should be normal for their size, but in the chaos no one notices. They wrap their cloak around them both, and hold her close.

“I can walk,” Ash whispers, in a small, scared voice. She is trying to be so brave.

“I know you can,” Melarue concedes, “Let me hold you for a bit. It will keep us both warm.” They smile down at her, “You are like my own personal little furnace.”

Ashokara buries her face in the crook of Melarue’s neck, ever mindful of her budding horns. Her hair tickles the small patch of bare skin above their collar as they begin moving forward again. Leliana asks for Solas to repeat himself, and glances back at Melarue in a sign that says she wishes to hear their side of the story as well.

They will give it later, when they’ve put Ash to sleep.

“…where is my mother?” Ash’s voice is muffled by Melarue’s cloak, but the others still manage to hear it. Solas turns away, brow furrowed _. At least he can still feel guilt over what he’s done_ , they think to themselves.

“She is coming.” Melarue tells her, and they ignore the disbelieving, wearied gazes of the Inquisition soldiers nearest them. They all saw the mountainside crash into Haven. None of them think the Inquisitor could have survived.

 _You must. For your daughter’s sake. For_ all _our sakes._  Melarue hefts Ash on their hip in a better hold, and keeps going. They shake their head when Cassandra moves closer to offer to help carry the child.

“Is she lost?”

“Yes.” Melarue answers. “The snow makes it difficult to find us. But we will leave signs, so that she can. Would you like to help me? I have an extra cloak, we can rip it up and tie bits of it to the trees.”

“…like the story about the breadcrumbs?”

“Just so.” Melarue ignores the biting cold seeping into their boots. It is a simple thing, to heat their fingers a bit with a small flicker of magic, and let the warmth spread, before they continue. “And later in the evening, after we set up camp, I shall go out and search myself.” The wind nearly whips the hood from their head, as snow flurries and chilled air chafes at their skin.

“Can I come?” Ash pulls back a bit, to look them in the eye.

Melarue flashes an apologetic smile. “You must remain in the tent, and rest. Your mother will need you to keep up your strength.”

Ash’s arms around them tighten, and she presses her face against their neck. They barely hear the words she whispers next, so faint and afraid. “Please don’t leave.”

They press a small kiss to the top of her head, as their heart constricts. It has been a long while since they last held a child, but they have never been god at denying them anything. “…very well.”

If the Inquisitor does not survive, they will take Ashokara somewhere safe. Their mind is already going through all the possible routes they can think of. The direction that Solas is leading them in seems familiar, somehow. The mountain pass has changed from whatever well-known place Melarue remembers, but something about it feels…nostalgic.

They will take Ashokara to one of their own bases if they can. Their network is spread thin at the moment, but it is secure. There will be places that will be safe, while Melarue gathers power.

If the Inquisitor dies, their ability to close the rifts dies with her. Melarue will need more strength. To protect Ashokara. To protect these people from Corypheus…and to protect them from Fen’Harel.

They are not strong enough.

But they will be soon.

\---

**Part 2: Breadcrumbs**

\---

For a long time, she is only conscious of the cold.

A bone deep frost that makes her curl in on herself, the pain of moving the only thing to sufficiently rouse her from the dark of her mind. Her head throbs, her arm is…wrong in some way. Dislocated? Broken? 

Kassaran gasps as she heaves herself to her feet, flinching at the pain flaring in her knee. She landed on it wrong and she can feel the bruise there, potentially small fractures in her leg. But she has to stand. She has to go.

_Ashokara._

_The Inquisition._

_Ashokara!_

She curls her left arm inward, or at least she  _tries_  to curl it in. Dislocated then. She can deal with that. Kass limps over to the nearest wall and braces herself before pushing her shoulder back into place. 

She bites back a scream, trembling in pain. She has to keep going. Keep going.

The cavern is cold, she is cold, everything is freezing. 

Keep going. 

The rifts and demons ahead are annoying but her hand flares with power she didn’t she she had, sucking them all back into a vortex to the Fade. 

Ah, well. Useful.

She finds a stray leaf of elfroot that she immediately begins to chew. It’s not the best way to partake in its medicinal qualities, but it helps ease the pain. Helps her to keep going. 

The cave ends and the sojourn into the dark blizzard begins. She tightens her coat around her, trying to move as quickly through the deep snow as possible, thanking her height for the ability to power through this. 

Keep going.

_Ashokara, I’m coming. Hold on._

_Be alive. Please._

Melarue’s words echo in her head, promising to keep her daughter safe and she prays to whatever is out there, if there is anything at all, that they were able to keep that promise. For the good of all, let her daughter be alive. 

The wind whips and howls, pushing her down to her knees into the snow. A cry escapes her in pain as she has to wrench herself back up. A violent determination fills her then, making her desperate and strong. 

This is  _not_  how she will die. She just survived a…monster dragon and its evil monster master that claims to be a Magister of old -  _Kassaran Adaar will not be killed because of some poorly timed blizzard!_

She can’t feel her feet or her fingers, and the skin around her horns has gone numb from the exposure, but she trudges forth, picturing her daughter the entire way. She will live for her daughter, she will make it through this for her daughter. She can’t abandon her, not now, not ever. 

_I will make sure your daughter is safe._

_I will get through this._ Melarue’s word is binding, she knows. They do not make promises lightly, and if she were to -

NO. She cannot even think that now, not while the wind beats at her seemingly from every angle, not while she so desperately wants to curl up in a ball to try and get warm, not while she hears slinking in the snow around her that she suspects are predators of some sort. No. 

Keep going. 

Her knee gives out and she grits her teeth, forcing her leg to continue to move along. It is a limp, but it is movement. The slinking gets closer. A freezing hand travels to the hilt of the lone dagger she still has on her person. 

Not without a fight. Never without a fight. 

Keep going.

Her eyes slide over to where the slinking is, to the flash of eyes in the dark but her eyes catch something else too, waving in the wind. She squints before hobbling over to the tree where the fabric is tied…

Tied fabric, of what looks to be a cloak torn into several pieces. Her eyes widen and she looks ahead, trying to see past the snow and wind and dark. She doesn’t see anything but…this…it is a strand of hope and it’s the best thing she’s got. She unties the piece and takes out her dagger, carving a 1 into the trunk of the tree. A marker of her own. 

The slinking gets closer, enough to make her ears twitch. 

She adjusts her grip on the dagger and turns towards the noise, letting loose a loud shout. 

“AAAAAAAH!” She screams at the wolf, startling it so thoroughly it quickly scampers away. She is large and terrifying, the metal of the dagger glinting in the moonlight just enough to remind the wolf of the weapons her people and people like her people use. 

She doesn’t sheathe the dagger, only tucking in her hands close to her body as she steps in the direction of the cloth. 

By the time she reaches the next piece, she feels like she is practically dragging her leg behind her. She needs a cane, a - HA!

A large branch fallen from a tree will do nicely. She takes the torn piece of fabric and wraps it around her hand, marking the tree, and continuing forward just a bit faster.

She doesn’t want to curl up anymore. She will get to her daughter.

Keep going.

Her heart hammers in her chest and she reaches another tree. 

Keep going.

The snow is beginning to clump around her horns and hair and oh what she would give for a head wrap and hood. Her ears are numb, her entire face is numb. 

Keep going.

When she sees the first flicker of light up ahead she almost worries she’s found the Red Templars, heralds of her death. But she goes forward, the tattered cloak clenched in her fist as she limps forward. But the fires grow and there is no red, but there are people and -

“HELP!” She screams, willing her lung to work. The world around her groans and she remembers the words about avalanches and shouting. Dammit. But nothing happens, the people ahead don’t move and the snow doesn’t move. 

She drags her body closer, and closer still. She made it this far, she can get to camp. 

Keep going!

Her leg finally gives out and she topples into the snow with a cry. No, no, she’s so close. She drags herself closer with the aid of the stick and the sheer will power to get through. She can do this. Her body aches so much from the pain, it would be easier to just stop -

KEEP GOING.

She collapses against a rock, breathing hard, when she hears it - the murmurs and feet moving quickly through the snow. She looks up to see the Iron Bull, his horns sticking out uniquely from his head.

“Bull,” she says as loudly as she dares and he moves faster to her. She can scarcely believe it when his arms come around her and lift her from the ground. She groans at the pain in her leg and arm, but she’s here. She made it. 

“Ash…where is my daughter? Is my daughter safe?” She asks, looking around for her daughter or Melarue or anyone -

“She is just fine, Kassaran,” Melarue tells her.

“ _Praise be the Qun_ ,” she whispers in Qunlat before the darkness in her mind consumes her again. 

She made it.


End file.
